Wednesday, March 11, 2009

how deep is your love (how deep is your love?)

as the bee gees said back then, how deep is yours? we're living in a world of fools breaking us down when they all should let us be.

the reason i was thinking of china the other day has just occurred to me, rather timely too, because i am feeling as though i were made in china/manufactured, mass produced. you can see i am surely losing my mind. losing control may be the very reason for loss of reason, as when we're spinning loose and infinite we become blurred by blind panic. that's a mouthful for me at the moment. i am simply a mouthful and i'm sure everyone has had just about enough of me. how are you?
let's not go there, okay.
how are you really? (as if you really care)
i don't know. i think i'm just accustomed to being unhappy all the time, which is hazardous for myself and those around me. people seem to think i'm miserable all the time and raining inside of my head. people seem to think a lot, maybe about me, maybe not. usually not such lovely things , too. i am left feeling like i did something terribly wrong ( screw them )

Do you want a spoonful of rejection? A dose as bitter as wormwood and medicine. When I think of the boy I love I feel that sickly feeling that I may lose him. Not to another, but to his own. I, conversely, would set aside my own selfishness for him; give him my cup and inhibitions. Without appearing weak I must still say that I feel his rejection and disappointment in me that I cannot understand. Why? I ask again. He cannot answer me. While I miss him days over he sleeps soundly. I miss his hands but he can go on just fine without me. He kisses me with no meaning. I am knock, knock, knocking. I’ll just be waiting here, right here.
Baby, he’ll say. I don‘t always love you.
(Don’t talk. Don’t try that with me. Don’t speak, please, don’t say it. Nobody means anymore to me than you.)
Baby. Sometimes, perhaps. But not everyday.
(Tread carefully. I’m nearly over the edge.) Sometimes he means it, but other days he does not. Why can’t you love me everyday? Does Everyday seem too infinite? I think you are afraid. So hush, let me fix you.

No comments:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...